Through the Dragonborn's Eyes
by praeeunt
Summary: An aggressive, egocentric young Dunmer, his tired and grumpy cousin, and his upbeat, optimistic little sister, find themselves in Skyrim on a one-way adventure to the College of Winterhold; along the way, they get tangled up in tales of werewolves, assassins, dragons, and a sassy blind Nordic woman who, more than anything, needs their help. What is a guy to do?
1. Before The Storm

"Rayyndin."

The Dark Elf remained stiff, barely even twitching. J'urabi would have thought him dead if it weren't for the smell. He put his paw once again on Rayyndin's shoulder, repeating his name with more urgency this time, before shaking him. Hard.

"_Rayyndin."_

Ray made an unintelligible groaning sound and shifted slightly, a sleepy attempt to get away from the disturbance. With an inward sigh, J'urabi realized that the Dunmer would not be waking with such gentle provocations any time soon, and he rose to his feet. Careful not to wake the other sleeping bodies as he padded as softly as he could through the tent, his nose wrinkling at the smell of sweat and alcohol and skooma and other various substances he'd rather not think about, he went into the storage compartment, grabbed the first bottle of cheap liquid he could find, and headed back to his sleeping companion.

J'urabi poured the entire contents of the bottle over his head.

"_RAY." _

Rayyndin flung himself upright, gasping for breath and glancing around frantically. His short, dark hair was dripping and his face gleamed wetly in the dim candlelight.

He turned to glare at J'urabi, wiping his mouth on his hand and spitting. Even the Khajiit felt slightly intimidated by the way his red eyes seemed to illuminate the darkness.

"By the Reclamations, J'urabi!" he exclaimed angrily, sitting up fully and turning to face him square on. "Oblivion was that for?!"

"Rayyndin," the Khajiit began sharply, standing and outstretching his arm in what he hoped was an urgent manner; "Your family is looking for you. They have Redoran guards patrolling the streets as we speak. I assume it is your cousin who is leading them. They cannot find you here."

Ray's eyes immediately widened and he leapt to his feet, cursing rapidly under his breath. "You son of s'wit, J'urabi," he hissed - to himself, more than anything - "Why did you leave this until now?" He grabbed his tunic off the floor and hurriedly pulled it over his head, drying himself as best he could on the way down. "If they find me here I'm a dead man."

"You think I am not aware of this? I only heard of it just now. I came to wake you as soon as I could."

Suddenly way, way, way too awake, Ray could only shake his head and spit again, trying to clear his mouth of the stale taste that came from last night's trip. Even if he did manage to make it back to the Dutheri household before the guards found him, he reeked so strongly of skooma that they'd figure out where he'd been before he could even try and think of an excuse.

Like they'd believe him, anyway.

"I need to get out of here," he said, holding his breath slightly and standing oddly still as he struggled to think of his next move. "Hell, I need to get out of here."

"That would be correct," J'urabi said, handing him a small vial containing a clear liquid. "Take this. I nicked it off Sera Tanasa. It is female perfume, but you smell so bad anyone would think you came from a skooma den."

Ray took the vial aggressively, rolling his eyes. _ "Funny." _Then he crouched low, lifted the fabric of the tent's walls above his head and slid under as gracefully as he could. "I'll try and be back tonight. Don't wait for me."

"Good luck, greyskin," said J'urabi after him, but by the time he had done so Ray had already vanished.

Rayyndin shivered as his skin came into contact with the cold, morning air of Blacklight. Being situated so high north, the city often got a lot of the Sea of Ghost's freezing winds, and since the Velothi mountains ran vertically between Skyrim and Morrowind, they didn't get protected from them like Cyrodiil did with its Jeralls. He often wondered to himself why they didn't just move further down south, where it was warm and pleasant, (or at least, as pleasant as Morrowind could get,) but as it was, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

He rolled the sleeves of his tunic up, taking the vial that J'urabi had given him, popping out the cork, and taking a sniff of its contents. Ray wrinkled his nose; comberry and gold kanet. It was one of the most effeminate things he could imagine, but still, it was better than smelling of skooma. He poured a little of the liquid into his hands and started rubbing it over his arms and neck, trying to be sparing but desperately looking forward to bathing when he got back. As much as he preferred the den to his home, he had to admit that the hygiene standards of nobles were far more pleasant than that of the tent; one could only spend so long in a pit of drugs, sweat, alcohol and dirt.

Happy that he smelled at least slightly more legal, Ray threw the bottle and the remainder of the liquid away and cast his eyes over his current street to make sure there was no-one in a close proximity who would recognize him. Though the shouting of guards still seemed a little way off, he suddenly started to regret not bringing a cloak with him, since his face was in full view and he had nothing available to cover it up even slightly without making it obvious that was trying to hide. That, and the fact it was still really fetching freezing.

_Really._

Winds this cold were just unnecessary.

Though the pounding headache didn't help him to think as straight as he would have liked, Ray managed to gather his thoughts together enough to come up with a safer, albeit longer, route home, and one that hopefully managed to keep him out of view of the guards. He just wanted to get away from anywhere suspicious as fast as he could. At least if he made it home before he was found, he'd have time to think of a good enough excuse, and, knowing this, he picked up his pace, slunk off leftwards into an alleyway, and kept his head down.

Okay.

Deep breaths.

It'd be fine.

_It would._

"Spare a coin for an old beggar?" croaked an old woman – Nordic, by the looks of it – from the side of the alley. Ray ignored her, mumbling an inaudible apology and regaining his brisk pace once again. He didn't have time to get distracted. He had one thing on his mind, and one thing only, and that was getting back home as quickly as possible. The beggar sighed and pulled her knees in further with a creak, throwing a mumbled curse word his way, but he was already too far away to hear it.

The Dutheri household was situated at one of the highest points in Blacklight – the utmost reaches of the city that circularly spanned the docks in the centre, boasting the title of House Redoran Council District. J'urabi's place, or simply 'the skooma den,' as it was called by the people who used it regularly, hugged the inner docks, the large round body of water that served as the city's major shipping port and trade hub. The buildings that surrounded it, unsurprisingly, were home to the city's poorer populace, namely Nords, Argonians and Khajiits, and had earned itself the title of Blacklight Port District. Because of this, most of the one-time customers who visited the den were sailors, cheap merchants or pirates of some sort, though Ray didn't like trying to imagine why; the life of a seaman had never sounded like something he'd want to try.

Thoughts aside, the location of Rayyndin's home currently posed as a massively unfortunate inconvenience, because it was so fetching _high. _And the alley he was climbing up was so fetching _steep. _For someone experiencing a godsawful hangover first thing before the crack of dawn, it was not a fun thing to take on, and he was barely halfway up before he began finding it difficult to breathe.

_Damn, _he thought to himself, taking a moment's rest to lean against the wall and regain his breath. Despite the colossal buildings rising up on either side of him providing some shadows, his heavy gasping for air wasn't exactly the stealthiest thing he could've done. Ray just hoped that he was in an obscure enough area for the guards to bypass.

"_Ho_-kay," he said to himself, wiping the sweat off his brow and brushing himself down. He could do this. Guards could no longer be heard full stop, and he was close enough to his home to get there before being caught. He had it all under control. He would think of a good excuse, and get his parents to believe him, and then hang around with Cassie and practice his swordplay and bathe for the rest of the day, and then he'd be able to head back to J'urabi's place for the evening and everything would be-

"And where do you think _you're _going?"

Ray spluttered, his face suddenly squashed against the wall, his hands held at the small of his back, and someone's surprisingly strong arm pressed against his shoulder blades, holding him in place. He recognized the voice instantly; Mathieu. His cousin. Despite having a Breton name, Mathieu was Dunmer through and through, being generally sceptical, grumpy and distrustful, and always having something to complain about it. Having grown up with him from birth, Ray _may _have been a little biased about his cousin's characteristics, in the same way a boy would to his brother, but it was safe to say that he and Mathieu didn't always get on.

Not always.

"Where does it _look_ like?" Ray wheezed, wriggling in an attempt to get out of Mathieu's grasp. "I'm going –"

Mathieu pressed harder against Ray's back with his forearm, knocking the air out of the younger male's lungs and cutting him off mid-sentence. "That doesn't matter. More importantly, where do you think you've _been_?"

Ray failed to respond, his lack of air rendering it difficult to think as well as speak. Even if he could think properly, he realized, he still probably wouldn't be able to think of a good answer; lying to guards was one thing, but Mathieu? He couldn't do it.

Mathieu leaned closer inwards, pressing for an answer. Out of the corner of his eye, since Ray's face was still squashed unceremoniously against a wall, he saw his cousin open his mouth again to speak, but before he could say whatever he was planning to, he stopped, closed his mouth, frowned, and wrinkled his nose in what looked like distaste.

"Actually, don't answer that," he said, pulling back and releasing Ray, his hands moving quickly and gracefully to slide his dagger back into its sheath. He sniffed. "You reek of women and skooma. I'd rather not know."

_Ah, _thought Ray, cringing and rubbing his sore wrists. He hadn't considered the women's perfume giving _that_ impression, especially when it hadn't even achieved what he had wanted it to, but now it had done he couldn't exactly try and explain it.

He drew back, avoiding Mathieu's gaze and mumbling an apology, his face heating up. Mathieu stared at him pitifully, almost sympathetically. It was a few moments before either of them spoke again.

"Do you know where Cassathra is?" Mathieu asked eventually, his voice slightly softer. Ray blinked, expression hardening, and gazed up at him, confused.

"Cassie?" he repeated, concern creeping into his voice when he was trying so hard to keep it under control. "Why? Where is she?"

Mathieu sighed, glancing away. There was an expression on his face Ray couldn't quite read; disappointment, maybe. Shame. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

"She disappeared yesterday," Mathieu confessed, refusing to meet Ray's eyes. "The day after you did. We all thought you had run off together, or that she had tried to find you. If I had known that you had just been in a _skooma den_ this whole time, we never would've bothered looking for you. It's... it's her that we're really searching for."

_Well, that hurts. _Ray's mind was so focused on his sister, though, that he didn't have time to process the rather obvious connotations of Mathieu's words. If his parents cared for his sister more than they did for him... well, let them. He cared for her more than himself anyway.

"Do you have any idea at all of... of where she could have gone?"

Ray spoke slowly, biting his lip. His skin suddenly felt very tight and very dry and he wanted nothing more than to have spent the past two days at home, with Cassie, so that they would never have been in this situation. _Oh my _gods. It was all his fault. If it weren't for him, Cassie would still be here. They would never have been in this mess.

He swallowed.

"Not really," said Mathieu, playing with the hilt of his dagger subconsciously. "The only thing she spoke about before she left was magic."

"Magic?"

"She was asking Lady Jothryn for permission to travel to the Telvanni territories and learn from the masters. Understandably, your parents weren't exactly happy about it."

Ray swallowed again. 'Understandably' was a massive understatement; House Redoran prized honour and prowess in battle above all else, and were some of the only Dunmer in Morrowind to be distrustful of magic, even if only slightly. Even then, though, it wasn't really the magic that was the problem; it was more the fact she _didn't_ want to be a fighter. Whether it was magic or thieving or _fishing_ that Cassie wanted to do, Lord and Lady Dutheri wouldn't care, because whatever it was, it wasn't what they wanted. It wasn't something a warrior would do.

Now he understood why Mathieu seemed more sensitive about the topic than he would've been anyway; it was a feeling he understood himself well. The dagger he now fought with was something he had taken on with reluctance, since his tall, willowy body wasn't exactly built for fighting, and because his parents simply didn't want to accept the fact that their son didn't really want to become a warrior. And when Ray said, 'didn't really,' what he meant was that Mathieu would probably rather lick Ulfric Stormcloak's bare feet than spend a life as a soldier.

Ray didn't want to think about the reaction Cassie would've received in order to make her _run away, _if that was what indeed had happened. His stomach was doing jumps and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to know his baby sister was okay and to squeeze the life out of her in a hug, like they used to.

"Well, that's something, at least!" he exclaimed angrily, clenching his hands into fists. "How come you and the stupid bloody guard are still looking around the city, as if she would've run away and stayed in Blacklight?! Oh my _gods, _Mathieu, she could be dead."

Mathieu remained calm and unresponsive as Ray yelled at him, expression hard. "You forget, Rayyndin, that she has been missing for a day now; the world doesn't stop for you while you waste your life away on drugs and then start up again once you decide to join the party. We scoured the outsides of Blacklight from every direction yesterday night, but there was no sign of her. There was no way she could've travelled faster than that on foot – and none of the horses are absent, mind you – and we have patrols out there as we speak. Stop blaming _me _for things that are _your _fault."

Ray glared at him, breathing heavily. Despite how much he wanted to shift the blame off himself, he knew full well that he couldn't. Especially not on Mathieu. If the guy was up and awake at this time of the morning, and had obviously been up for a lot longer, it didn't take an alchemy professor to know that he was trying hard to solve the problem. Unlike Ray, who, at this point, felt guilty enough to crawl into a skeever hole and stay there.

"C'mon," said Mathieu once the tension had reached its peak; "You're not going to be doing much help stood seething in an alleyway. Let's get you home, and then you can aid the search. I'll... I'll think of something to tell your parents, if you want."

Ray looked at him gratefully, feeling guilty, pathetic, and ashamed, but thankful. Mathieu could be alright, sometimes. When he felt like it. Sometimes.

Ray was just glad he felt like it now.

"Okay," he said, folding his arms awkwardly across his chest and staring at the floor. He paused a long while before speaking again, his voice quiet and unclear. "Thank you, Mathieu."

Mathieu smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>By the time they reached the Dutheri household, the sun was high in the sky – it took a lot longer to get somewhere when being stealthy than it did when in a rush, Ray realized. At first, he wondered why they didn't just inform one of the guards that he had been found, since they were under Mathieu's authority and he was generally better at persuasion than Ray was anyway, but after the fourth time of asking, Mathieu had clocked him round the side of his head, told him to shut up, and then, in the most condescending voice he could possibly have used, said, "I'm sure your parents would <em>much<em> rather hear it from me than the guards, and they were annoying me anyway. Besides, I need the time to think of a good enough excuse for you. If you ask me once more, we can run all the way back and your parents can hear _everything._"

Ray remained silent after that.

Being stealthy, he was starting to find, was actually a lot more difficult than it looked. Mathieu, most likely because of his light, nimble build, found it easy, but Ray was naturally more muscular and lean, and was embarrassingly clumsy at it. Every time he tripped over something or drew attention to himself, Mathieu would roll his eyes and 'tsk,' and Ray was beginning to regret ever accepting his help in the first place.

He grumbled along behind him, his movements gradually getting lazier and lazier as his tiredness took over the adrenaline and he simply began not caring. Mathieu turned around and glared at him, pressing a long grey finger to his lips and motioning for them to stick close to the wall. When Ray had squinted against the sun long enough to enable himself to crane his neck around the wall only to very nearly make awkward eye contact with some Redoran guards, Mathieu sent him a look so fearsomely irritated Ray could feel his insides trying to escape. He glared right back, trying to appear more confident than he felt. Given Mathieu's eye roll, it probably didn't work.

When Mathieu deemed it safe to continue, he raised a hand and gestured for Ray to follow, pulling his hood back over his head now they were in one of the busier streets. Ray, sticking close behind him, still felt incredibly vulnerable without anything covering his face, and in a street of the Market District filled with merchants and stalls and angry shoppers desperately trying to get around, he was bound to be recognized by somebody. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact.

Somebody grabbed his wrist and tugged him out of his thoughts by physically tugging him right, out of the crowds and into another, less busy street. It was Mathieu, of course, but Ray had been so focused on getting through the crowds (added to the fact he was still really hungover) that the sudden change in direction posed as a massive shock.

Mathieu looked amused, but thankfully, said nothing. He pulled his hood down and Ray realized with relief that they had made it into the House Redoran Council District. From here, their home was only a few minutes' walk away. Unfortunately, the District was also the most heavily guarded district in all of Blacklight, so trying to get there unseen was going to make the journey a lot longer. Ray just hoped that all of the usual duty guards were still searching elsewhere in the city.

Mathieu beckoned him onwards and they continued, sticking to the shadows and walking briskly and –hopefully – inconspicuously along the paved street. The houses gradually got bigger and grander as they made their way down to the Dutheri household, but for someone who had spent their entire life living in such a way, Rayyndin still felt uncomfortable in this kind of environment. As passionate as he was about fighting, and as admired as he was among the warriors of House Redoran, as a noble, he was respected by few. Not that he minded, but it wasn't exactly difficult to see why.

They arrived at the Dutheri house and to their relief, the usual sentry guards were absent. As it was a large house, it had many entrances, and they could easily have slid in through one of the back doors, but as it was presently they had no need. Mathieu pushed his hood back, brushed himself down, and began walking calmly up the stairs towards the main entrance. Ray, on the contrary, felt as far from calm as was possible to be, all of the tension and nervousness that he had been repressing with focus on the way there bubbling up into his head and making him suddenly want to turn around, find Cassie himself, and then spend the rest of his life hiding from shame and embarrassment. Mathieu, noticing his hesitation, grabbed his arm aggressively and pulled him along, evidently taking no cows'wit. They were at the doors before Ray knew it.

Mathieu, still holding onto Ray's forearm tightly, wasted no time in opening the doors and making his entrance, despite Ray's muffled protests and desperate need to at least prepare himself mentally a _little _before facing abject humiliation. He only made matters worse for himself in the end, because Lord Sethrasti and Lady Jothryn were stood in wait in the main chamber, leaving Ray no time whatsoever to gather his wits about him before he was laid witness before them.

_Dammit, Mathieu,_ he thought to himself, glaring at his cousin a final time before sheepishly meeting his parents' stern gazes. He figured that grinning awkwardly and shrugging with a 'sorry?' wouldn't have been the best direction to go with, instead choosing to remain silent, his hands behind his back.

Jothryn, after a moment's pause, ran forwards and hugged him, quickly and coldly. Ray was left with no time to reciprocate it.

"Rayyndin, where have you _been?_ We've been so worried about you!"

_Of course, _he wanted to mutter, biting his tongue. Having no answer to her question himself, he said nothing, glancing pleadingly at Mathieu out of the corner of his eye. His cousin cleared his throat.

"Lady Jothryn," he began, formal as he was towards his aunt. Ray cringed inwardly. "Your son was absent purely out of concern for his sister. Cassathra had spoken to him about her wish to learn magic first and foremost, and when he had told her that he didn't believe you would allow it, he grew worried that she would do what she did. He left as soon as he could to patrol the road to Sadrith Mora, lying in wait for her. We found him this morning, heading back. We have yet to find any sign of your daughter, milady."

_Well _that's _pathetic, _thought Ray, _especially for someone who was acting like everything was under his control on the way here._ It was the last thing his parents would believe about someone like him. He glanced nervously at Jothryn in an attempt to gauge her reaction, taking in the hesitation and the look of doubt that flickered across her eyes. Seth was the same, and Ray could only swallow and nod.

"Well, that's very good of you Rayyndin," she said after a moment, forcing a smile. She seemed to have bought it, at least, he thought, shooting a grateful look in Mathieu's direction. "Now, you'll both have to come inside and tell me exactly what-"

She was cut off by the door opening and two guards bursting in abruptly, a small, petite Dunmer girl held up roughly in between them by her arms. Her black, frizzy hair was all over the place, and her face was smeared with dirt and what could have been blood. The travel robes she wore were ripped and torn. She looked a mess.

"Cassie!" Ray had exclaimed before he could help himself, relief flooding through him and his muscles unclenching as his face broke into a smile. His mother had dragged his baby sister into an embrace before he could get anywhere near her, though, and part of him felt hints of anger at the way someone obviously in distress was being smothered like this. He wanted to hug her gently and take her away somewhere quiet and wash her hair and clean her cuts and tell her that she was okay. Not cut off her ability to breathe.

"Oh, Cassathra, where have you _been? _We thought you were dead! Oh, my dear, my poor baby..." Jothryn broke down into sobs and Sethrasti stepped forwards to greet his daughter in succession. Ray clenched his fingers. Cassie looked scared, out of breath, and more than a little overwhelmed. It wasn't fair.

Sethrasti turned to one of the guards, expression hard. "Where did you find her?"

The guard cleared his throat. "On the road to Windhelm, milord. She was making her way to the College of Winterhold."

Jothryn pulled back, her face streaked with tears and her hands still firmly on Cassie's shoulders. Her sadness had dissipated almost instantaneously. "What?"

"Your daughter, milady," repeated the guard. "She was heading into Skyrim."

Cassie kept her gaze locked firmly onto the floor, shuffling her feet awkwardly. The silence in the room was unbearable.

Even Rayyndin couldn't help his jaw from falling open in shock.

"Cassathra," Sethrasti said darkly, grabbing his daughter by the wrist. "I've got a word I need to have with you."


	2. Supply and Demand

Mathieu glanced at Cassathra, trying to gauge her expression. Ever since she had come out of Sethrasti's study, her usual cheery, bubbly attitude had died, and she had barely spoken a word for the past few days. It was worrying all of them. Or at least, it was worrying Ray and Mathieu. Her parents saw it as an improvement; she had 'matured,' grown up, and begun to understand the importance of Redoran tradition. Whether they were right or not, Cassie wouldn't say.

"C'mon," he told her, nudging her ribs gently with his elbow. "It'll be fine. You're away from them now. Ray and I'll protect you."

Cassie sighed, gazing up at him hesitantly from tired eyes. The usually illuminated reds of her irises now clung to her pupils dully. "You really think that?"

He nodded, trying to be as convincing as he could be. It was difficult, with Cassie, somebody he trusted. Identifying the line between lying and persuasively exaggerating was something that had always eluded him, and lying to people he loved, (who were far and few between,) was something he could never do. Especially her.

"Mm-hm."

She shifted her gaze wordlessly back to their current target; admittedly, it didn't exactly back up his cause. Mathieu desperately wished it wasn't the case, but there wasn't anything they could do about it now. "Because I'd probably believe that a lot more if we weren't here."

Mathieu could only swallow, accepting the fact he had no answer to that as they approached the tent.

At home, he felt powerful, in control; even though his skills in battle weren't anything above average, as a noble and a leader his word was valued, and people listened to him. Here, he was completely out of his depth. The kind of people he was dealing with held no respect for those of his class, and it would be difficult getting anywhere further than the front door if he didn't manage to get it right.

An Argonian woman at the entrance heard their approaching footsteps and inclined her head ever so slightly in their direction. Her dark, beady eyes fixed onto Mathieu's and he tensed, sensing that she could see right through them. She said nothing, merely watching them intently and following their movements right up until the moment they stopped a few feet before her, the orange torchlight flickering almost menacingly against her dark, scaly skin. Mathieu wriggled his fingers, too nervous to take a breath.

He cleared his throat.

_You can do this._

"We're looking for Rayyndin," he began, trying to sound as confident but as informal as he could. Speaking like a nobleman at a council meeting would get him nowhere. "We have private business with him."

The Argonian bared her teeth, wheezing something that sounded like a cross between a hiss and a laugh. Argonians were hard enough to read in good weather, but in the darkness of night, her expression was written in a language Mathieu couldn't read.

"You have no authority here," she spat in her deep, gravelly voice. "How do you know of J'urabi?"

"Our associate has had business with him before," Mathieu claimed, straightening his spine and hoping desperately that his assumptions about J'urabi being male were correct. "We aren't here to abuse your services. We merely wish to speak with someone inside."

The Argonian woman held her words at the end of her snake-like tongue, letting the silence build and sizing them up a moment more with her penetrating eyes. Then she cocked her head towards the tent, extended a muscular arm and pulled back the fabric with her claws in order to hold it open for them. "Be quick. If I hear about _any _Tang Mo business, you're not seeing the outside of this tent again."

Mathieu mumbled a thank you and slid hurriedly inside, Cassie's wrist held tight in his grasp. He decided that not knowing what was meant by 'Tang Mo' wasn't the largest of his problems.

The first thing that hit him once they were out of the air was the smell; worse than one of the grottiest of taverns, the inside of the den reeked of alcohol, sweat, smoke, and dirty people. As he coughed and choked and tried to clear his throat of the smog, Mathieu closed his eyes, only to have them begin stinging intensely as soon as he tried to open them. _How does Ray s_tand _this place?_ he thought to himself, squinting against the smoky atmosphere and raising an arm to cover his mouth. In the dense stuffiness of the air, Mathieu, clad entirely in thick travelling gear, began sweating like a Nord in a desert almost instantly, and he was rapidly beginning to lose his ability to think clearly.

His eyes adjusted, murky shapes and figures starting to emerge from the smoke. A low drum beat resonated throughout the tent from somewhere he couldn't locate, accompanied by the slow, repetitive playing of a flute. Everywhere he looked, men, the majority of them Mer, slunk about and hung low, sniffing something, drinking something, smoking something, or staring wide-eyed at a rug and shaking. For the species that had pupils, they were dilated and inky. Scantily clad women of all races wandered about, a few of them smoking themselves, but most of them were either entertaining the men with music or '_entertaining_' them with various parts of their anatomy. Mathieu gulped, averting his eyes and trying to refill his head with images less inappropriate and disrespectful.

He identified the smell of chokeweed, first; it hung thick and heavy in the air, living aptly up to its name. Moon sugar, though odourless, was obviously present, merely because of the large amount of people who were consuming it. Empty bottles of Sleeping Tree Sap were littered about here and there, and cheap liquors were being handed out by the crate, but it was the sheer vastness of men smoking Skooma through their special pipes that made it obvious that that was the real stock product of the place. The smell of it almost made Mathieu gag, and he started chewing on the inside of his cheek to try and keep his stomach from rolling.

"I really don't want to be here," Cassie murmured at his side, taking in her surroundings with eyes wide enough to soak up every single detail. The sickly green shade of her usually grey skin gave away the physical effects the place was having upon her body. Mathieu squeezed her hand.

"We won't be here for much longer," he assured her, leaning towards her a little as he spoke. A Khajiit on the inside of the entrance was watching them intently, eyes narrowed and pupils thin, and Mathieu suddenly felt very eager to get out of sight of _anyone _with authority there as fast as possible. He tugged on Cassie's wrist, failing to lose eye contact with the Khajiit, and pulled her deeper into the thick crowds of the den.

A human woman seized his ankle, grabbing his attention and smirking as he yelped in surprise. "And what can I do for _you, _greyskin?" she slurred seductively from her position on the ground, fingers starting to drift higher up his thigh. Mathieu scowled and tried to pull his leg free, shaking her hand off with a kicking motion. She huffed and glared at him, turning her attention elsewhere, while Cassie just blinked, jaw set.

Only a few steps further in did the same thing happen again, only to Cassathra. A Bosmer, his eyes dilated and his hair hanging damp and lanky, pulled her down by her hand and started pressing his open mouth against the bare skin of her arm. Mathieu didn't notice anything wrong until Cassie began cursing rapidly, her voice fast growing alarmed and panicky, and he turned around to see her desperately trying to pull her arm back. The Bosmer began to grasp at her clothes, twitchy, sweaty hands slipping round the back of her body, a mouth barely functioning well enough to swallow murmuring, "Come on, girl, I can make you _happy,"_ into her skin before he was hit in the face with a well deserved punch from Mathieu.

"Don't you _ever_ touch my cousin," he spat, regardless of the fact the Bosmer was probably too out of it to understand. He was relatively pleased with his ability to sound confident despite how overwhelmed he felt, until he released the man's collar, let him drop, and realized that everyone around them had gone quiet. Apparently that wasn't the usual way to react to a creepy, intoxicated man groping a young woman in this place, and with a sickening realization the Argonian woman's threat from earlier came suddenly to mind.

Mathieu rose to his feet, putting an arm protectively in front of Cassie and trying desperately to think of an explanation as the surrounding people all started cracking the bones in their knuckles and making throaty growling sounds. "I, er... well..." he began, face heating up, before he felt a tug on his ear and heard Cassie saying his name.

"Mathieu, I..." she began, eyes set on something over his shoulder and voice faltering; when he turned to follow her gaze he saw the Khajiit from earlier picking his way through the crowds, yellow eyes focused intently on one thing – them.

He swallowed.

"Oh, gods, Cassie, follow me," he said hurriedly, grabbing her by the arm again and pulling her into the crowd. The customers sober enough to realize what was going on gasped and dodged out of the way, but it wasn't long before the shock wore off and they began throwing curses and profanities their way and making attempts to grab the pair. _Thank the Reclamations that most people here are off their heads, _Mathieu thought to himself, glancing quickly over his shoulder to see the Khajiit still hot on their trail. _How fetching big _is _this tent, anyway?_

"Down here!" he heard Cassie hiss next to his ear, before his arm was yanked off in a different direction and his body followed with a sickening lurch. The thick smoke that clung to the air only made it worse, his stomach feeling like a drum being pounded, and he almost had to choke around the smell of skooma in order to hold down the bile.

She had pulled him into a separate compartment, a darker one, where movements could be perceived as little more than shadows and the low music was muffled and distant. Nobody was talking; all Mathieu could hear was heavy, grating breathing and incomprehensible murmurs. Cassie pulled on his arm once more and dragged him sharply down to the floor, where he was forced into a cramped sitting position and could feel the body of another customer pressing against his side. The smell of sweat was overwhelming. He could feel his heart pounding erratically against his chest.

"Where did they go?!" a voice demanded from the main partition, low and nasal, accented heavily with the slimy dialogue of Elsweyr. The responses descended into a cacophony of murmurs and unintelligible mumbling, making it difficult for Mathieu to work out if any of them were informing him correctly. At the back of his head, he was _aware _that this was their chance to do something, but he was too petrified to move; all he could do was sit completely still and hold his breath.

Cassie shuffled next to him. He could hear someone breathing. He couldn't tell if it was him or not. She put her hand on his shoulder, shifted so that she was facing him, and whispered calmly into his ear, "He's coming this way. Blend in." Before he had time to think of a response, Cassie crawled across the small compartment and dissolved into shadows, and Mathieu became vaguely aware of the fact she was then straddling somebody's lap and sucking face. The other party held no complaints, but Mathieu wanted to throw up; Cassie was his baby _cousin._

The curtain that separated their compartment with the main section of the tent was suddenly drawn back, by a paw that Mathieu knew could only belong to J'urabi.A thin shaft of golden light spilled into the room from the candles and torches on the other side, and Mathieu realized that his concealment had now disappeared; he had to act _fast. _Grabbing the nearest bottle of sleeping tree sap he could find just as the Khajiit's face appeared in the entrance, he tilted his head back as far into the shadows as it could go and glugged down the remains. It tasted earthy and overly sweet and overall pretty vile, but he carried on drinking until he felt like his throat was burning. It made his nostrils sting and his eyes water, but it worked. The Khajiit's eyes flicked feverishly left and right, scanning the room, (probably because he knew its inhabitants would be too stoned for him to be able to ask them, Mathieu assumed,) before deciding that it was clear and dipping away again. Mathieu put the bottle down and wiped his hand on his mouth, breathing a sigh of relief when the shadow befell him once more. _We've gotten away with it._

The drape fell back into place to shroud the area in darkness again, and he caught his final glance of the people he was sharing the room with. There were about eight of them all together, all cramped together on the floor, and apart from Cassathra there was only one female; a Redguard, with a shaved head and spotted war paint under her glassy, dilated eyes. There was nobody who wasn't drunk on something.

Mathieu gasped, sucking in breath through his teeth from the sheer shock. There was somebody he _recognized._ A fellow Dunmer, hunched at the back of the room in between the Redguard woman and another Dark Elf, was sat shaking like a leaf with sweat rolling down his forehead in beads. Mathieu could hardly believe it, but as much as he hated it, he couldn't say that he was truly surprised; after all, if they were looking for him here, of all places, there wasn't much else that they'd find him doing. Mathieu just hated that he was in it so deep.

It was Rayyndin.

The guy was obviously completely out of it. He didn't seem to recognize that anything was happening around him at all. Once the curtain had been closed and they were blanketed in shadow again, he was far more difficult to make out, but knowing that it was _him _sat there made him a lot easier to observe than anyone else in the room. And Mathieu's eyes were starting to adjust a little anyway, (though he blamed the blur around the edge of his vision on the sleeping tree sap.)

Mathieu wanted to scream. The night was not going to plan at all – how were they meant to explain to Ray what they were doing when his consciousness was practically in a different plane of existence? Mathieu didn't know what he was seeing, and he didn't want to. He knew that whatever it was, it wouldn't be aiding them in any way at all, and that getting a man who was potentially having some of the scariest or happiest hallucinations of his life to come with them was not going to be easy.

He was so busy staring that he didn't notice somebody come to sit next to him until he heard Cassie say his name. "Mathieu. Mathieu? He's gone. What is it? Are you okay?"

Taking a few moments to draw his eyes away from Ray's form, he turned to Cassathra, blinked a few times, before saying slowly, "What? I- I... yeah. It's just." He raised a hand and pointed with one finger to Ray. "It's him."

"What d'you mean 'it's him'?" she murmured, voice low. "Is it Ray?"

Mathieu nodded, starting to focus a little better. He knew that Cassie was older now, and more mature, and he was certain that she knew what to expect when they first entered this place, but part of him still felt desperately uncomfortable about her having to see the man – _no, __**boy**_ - she grew up with in such a state.

"Cassie," he whispered, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Go under the canvas. Wait on the other side. I'll be out with Ray in a minute."

She shook her head, causing her frizzes to bounce, and raised her own hand to peel his off of her arm. "I can handle it. I know he's an ass." Her eyes glinted dully when she met his, glossed over with shadow. "You don't need to sugarcoat my brother."

Mathieu stared at her sympathetically for a moment longer, quite unsure of how to respond, before sighing, and pulling his other hand away too. "Okay." It was all he could think of.

He shuffled as carefully as he could into a standing position as Cassie slid behind him to take his place, though he had to stand with slightly hunched shoulders as the compartment had a much lower roof than the rest of the tent. Causing as little disturbance as possible, he stepped forwards slowly until he was in front of Ray, who didn't make any move to indicate he had noticed him. Then he crouched, lifted a hand cautiously, and held it in front of Ray's face. "Rayyndin?"

He moved his hand slowly from side to side. Ray twitched and blinked and started mumbling something incoherent. Though Mathieu had little experience with drugs, he had a feeling that his cousin wasn't going through a 'good' trip if his behaviour was anything to go by, though unfortunately this meant he had no idea how to deal with him. He didn't want to risk causing any complications in the trip with long-term consequences.

_Why do you have to be such an idiot, Ray?_

He sighed. "Can you hear me Ray?"

Again, Ray made no reaction. His mumbling continued. It was difficult to think of a logical solution when Mathieu knew that J'urabi was still prowling about the tent in search for them, but after a few moments of panicked strategizing he came to a rough conclusion; whether it was safe for Ray or not, they needed to get him and them out of the tent as soon as possible. If anything happened, it was Ray's own fault.

He swore quietly under his breath, gesturing for Cassie to come over and hoping that she could see it in the dim lighting, before raising Ray's arms over his head and preparing himself to haul him up. "Come on," he grunted as he pulled Ray's limp body up from the ground, straining a little under the weight of his cousin's muscular frame. Cassie seemed to understand what the issue was and stooped low in order to lift the canvas up for them. The freezing night air hit Mathieu in the face like a cold slap. "Let's get you out of here."

With some effort, he slid his arms under Ray's knees and dipped them both so that they could slide under the tent canvas and out into the open. Cassie followed behind and pegged the tent back in place, before standing up and brushing her robes down. Her eyes landed on Ray, who was lying on the grass with his arms wrapped tightly around himself and drool pooling at the corners of his lips, and she cringed.

"He looks a right mess."

"He does," Mathieu agreed, pulling his flask from under his cloak and popping out the cork. He had no idea if it would work, but it was worth a try; if anything _did_ happen, he would justify it with the fact that none of it would had to have happened at all if Ray hadn't taken the drugs in the first place.

He poured the water onto Ray's face.

Nothing happened.

He sighed, letting the flask fall back into place. He tried to act like he knew it would happen, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. Despite _knowing_ that a mere shock to the system wasn't enough to clear Rayyndin's body of the skooma, Mathieu had held onto that glimmer of hope that Ray would become conscious enough to walk, but he was now aware that that wouldn't be happening. They had successfully completed the first part of their mission, and that was it. The rest of it was going to be long and hard.

He scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully, hand on his hip. Cassie had her hands clamped in between her arms and her ribcage and her arms folded over her front, and she was starting to shiver. Mathieu was at a complete loss. They needed to leave the city before their absence was noted, but they couldn't try again the following night, now that J'urabi knew what they looked like. Ray wouldn't remember a thing if they left him there for him to sort himself out in the morning, but at the same time, they knew that asking him to do it wouldn't work unless there was a sense of urgency, and Ray was at the den practically every night.

And here they were, hiding behind a tent in the market place of Blacklight Port District, in the middle of the night, with a half-conscious, hallucinating skooma addict. What were they _meant _to do?

"Could we carry him?" Cassie asked after a few moments of silence. It was fast becoming their only option, but Mathieu wasn't ready to admit it yet. He responded with an absent, 'Hn.'

Cassie sighed. "Can I slap him?"

Mathieu, who had been stroking his chin, spread his fingers out in a 'Go ahead' gesture and shrugged. "Go for it."

She bit her lip, struggling to repress her grin despite the current situation, before walking towards her garbling brother and striking her hand down in a hard, fast slap to his cheek. Ray groaned and rolled over, making whimpering noises, but it was a satisfying thing to have done no matter how much she pitied him. She cleared her throat and straightened again. Her grin was still visible to Mathieu even in the dark.

"Okay," he said eventually after another long period of silence, shifting his hand from his chin up to his forehead, where he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in defeat. "Okay. I can't think of anything. We need to carry him."

Cassie's grin faded, but she nodded seriously, following Mathieu's lead as he crouched down in front of his cousin.

"Lift him so I can carry him on my back. Once we're out of the city you can take his feet."

She did as she was told and positioned Rayyndin on Mathieu's back so that he could carry him piggy-style, and together the two of them set off into the nightlife of Port District.

The stars glittered in the inky sky when they left Blacklight for the final time that night, but neither of them took any notice of it. By the time the sun emerged from the horizon, they were in the back of a cart, trundling through the Ash Lands, on the long, hard road, to Skyrim.

* * *

><p>When Rayyndin awoke, his head hurt, his throat burned, his back ached, and his eyes felt like they were about to sink into his brain. Before he could process anything to do with why he felt like this, however, or where he was, or how he got there, or why the surface he was lying on was shuddering like Blacklight in an earthquake, something contracted hard onto the lining of his stomach and he threw up, rolling over and gagging as he choked out the contents of his belly. He had enough experience with such an experience to know that bile didn't taste nice on principle, but this time it tasted <em>really <em>vile. He moaned.

"Looks like somebody's finally decided to join the party."

Ray spat out the remaining vomit and sat up, wiping his hand on his mouth. The voice belonged to Mathieu, though it took a few moments longer than normal to realize this as he collected his thoughts. Before he could respond, he felt the floor suddenly hit something with a _crack_ and the whole contraption lurched forwards, which made him want to throw up again. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting he could make out Cassathra and Mathieu, but neither of them seemed at all perturbed by the disturbance. He blinked.

"Where am I?"

He looked around. There was hard wood beneath him and two low wooden seats running along either side of him, his cousin and sister perched atop of them, and a patterned red canvas above their heads, supported by some wooden poles. They were moving, the rolling of wheels against rough terrain the only sound he make sense of, but he couldn't see outside; the red canvas covered either side of the space.

Mathieu didn't look at him. He and Cassie were playing with cards. "On a cart."

"I can see that," Ray hissed, narrowing his eyes. "I mean _where. _Why?"

His cousin shrugged. "If you hadn't been so wasted on skooma last night, you would know."

"It wasn't skooma, it was _moon sugar. _Skooma doesn't give you hallucinations. Anybody knows that."

_Hallucinations. _Ray fell silent, his eyes going wide as he recalled last night. It was the first time he had taken a moon sugar dosage large enough to trip him. He shuddered, suddenly feeling sick again.

Mathieu sighed. "You're in Skyrim. We passed Riften this morning."

Ray spluttered, jerking round to face Mathieu properly. "We're _what?!"_

"We're in Skyrim," Mathieu repeated, placing a card down on their makeshift table, which was made up of a blanket covering their outstretched legs while their feet rested on the benches opposite. Cassie threw her hands up in the air and groaned, grumbling, "I give up." Mathieu smirked.

"We ran away last night. We should be at Whiterun in about four day's time. Cassie wants to go to the College of Winterhold, and _we're_ going to take her there, and that means you have to help."

Ray swallowed. _I'm still hallucinating._

"Oh, for gods' sakes Rayyndin, you don't need to look so surprised. _You_ were the one who wanted to help her."

"Didn't mean I wanted you to _kidnap_ me," he wheezed, voice cracking.

Cassie moaned, burying her face into her hands. "This is going to be a _long_ ride."


	3. Unbound

Rayyndin's cousin Mathieu was a particularly deep sleeper. This rather irritating characteristic of his applied no matter the circumstances, which meant that even on a cart trundling through the rocky terrain and cold atmosphere of Skyrim, he snoozed like a baby on sleeping tree sap. Combined with his natural tendency to be grumpy and crabby, it resulted in a stick buried so deep in the mud that anyone who tried to pull it out would be showered in the decomposed, slushy corpses of its brethren; as Cassie had once put it. In other words, anyone who was brave enough to go the great lengths involved in waking him up had to be desperate enough to put up with the exhausted and irritated Mathieu that came afterwards, and that was _incredibly _desperate.

Which Rayyndin was. His bladder was about ready to burst, and he could feel it pressing against his lower abdomen more and more by the second. The only things keeping it all in were sheer determination and the violent lurching of a cart over rough ground to distract him, and he knew that if he didn't do something about it soon it was going to end in disaster. Unfortunately, Mathieu had technically only paid the driver enough money to cover Cassathra and him, making Ray, by all rights and means, a stowaway. He couldn't ask the driver to stop himself, and he _definitely _wasn't about to piss out of the back of a moving cart. He had no other choice.

"_Mathieu,_" he hissed, putting both hands on his cousin's shoulder and shaking him aggressively. "Mathieu, wake up. We need to stop the cart. Mathieu."

Mathieu didn't react at all, barely even shifting. He could've been dead, if it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his chest, and Ray had never been more frustrated with him. Making a barely restrained noise of agitation, Ray pinched the bridge of his nose, swore, and brought his hand down to Mathieu's cheek in a cold, hard, slap. If his 'quiet' whispering hadn't alerted the driver to his presence, that definitely had.

Mathieu bolted upright, raising a hand to his reddening face in shock before anything else. "Oh my _gods_," he gasped, cupping the injury in the feeble attempt to ease it off. Then he noticed Ray and his expression hardened, but as he reacted he made sure to keep his voice low. "What in Oblivion, Rayyndin? I hate you _so _much, you stupid, arrogant, skooma sucking, dim-witted son of a-"

"Mathieu, I need to go," Ray cut him off, beginning to squirm. "Can you tell the driver to stop the cart? I'm going to _die."_

"Don't be such a big baby," Mathieu scolded, still whispering. "Just go out of the back. Why did I have to be awake for this?"

"I _can't_. I didn't have to before. Can't you please just get him to stop? Otherwise I'll-"

"No, no, no, don't- don't do that," Mathieu said, heaving a sigh and rubbing his temples. "I'll do it. But you owe me, okay?"

Ray nodded, now rocking from side to side. "Do it quick."

"Gomar?" Mathieu called in the common tongue, now speaking at an ordinary volume. The response was a lazy grunt of indifference from the other side of the canvas. "Why don't you take a break? We've travelled far enough today and my frie-" he stopped, glancing at Ray and clearing his throat. "_I_, need to relieve myself."

With the whinnying of a horse, the cart drew to a halt, and Mathieu nudged Ray's side as an indication for him to go. Ray muttered thank you, but wasted no time in pulling the canvas apart and hopping out of the back, scurrying off in a rush. Back on the cart, Cassie rubbed her eyes and began to stir.

"Oh, thank gods," Ray said to himself, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as he steadied himself with a hand against the tree. He had forgotten what it felt like to be free from such desperation, but the feeling of relief didn't last long – if he had thought Blacklight to be cold, he knew nothing. The air of Skyrim was icy enough to slice through stone, permeating everything and anything, and he didn't want to be out in it for much longer, let alone a certain part of his anatomy. Shivering, his pulled up his trousers and tied them back up, before his fingers went numb. He could feel his blood run cold.

"Okay," he breathed, rubbing his hands and clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. As he was about to turn around and head back to the cart, however, something had shoved him violently back against the tree and pressed the harsh, cold edge of a blade to his neck, and Ray cried out from the surprise. He got a sickening sense of déjà vu from when Mathieu had done the same only a few days earlier.

"Looks like we have ourselves a runner," a low, female voice grunted next to his ear, breath hot on Ray's neck. The dagger, knife, whatever it was, was pushed harder into Ray's skin and he squeaked, unable to call for help. His attacker had the accent of a Nord, flat but strong and curled at the edges, and he suddenly hated it with a burning passion. No matter how hard he squirmed, he was locked in place by the aggressor's strong arms, and was incapable of moving position even slightly. He was trapped.

The Nord called out something in her native language, alerting Ray to the existence of others. He was kicked in the back of his leg – causing him to grunt in pain – before he could do anything about it, and then the voice was in his ear again and his breath came in quick, ragged gasps. "Don't try anything funny, _greyskin. _Skyrim is for the Nords, and your people are not welcome here," she hissed, but from the way she spoke she sounded as if she were enjoying herself. "_This_ – is for Ulfric. Prepare to meet your end, Dark Elf."

She drew back with her weapon poised for little more than a split second, but Ray took the chance as soon as he could and whipped round with a curled fist aimed right at the Nord's big, ugly head. She collapsed in on herself and drew backwards with a moan, but it wasn't long before her reaction kicked in and she growled, dropping to a fighting stance and swinging a hand round to where her longsword was positioned. Ray imitated her position as soon as he had regained his balance, lifting his own fist and preparing for the punch, when the Nord caught up with him and seized Ray's arm mid-movement. Ray snarled, trying to pull back but finding himself unable to do so, before realizing his mistake and making the snap decision to haul his knee up in a hard kick to the Nord's abdomen. The Nord yelled out, releasing his wrist and doubling over as she held her winded stomach in pain. He had punched her in the face before he could think about it.

The Nord collapsed to the floor, leaving Ray stood breathless and unbalanced beside her. _What in Oblivion... _he thought to himself, staggering backwards and realizing with an overwhelming sickening feeling that Cassie could be in danger. "Oh my gods," he mumbled, wiping the blood subconsciously from his hand to the fabric of his trousers. Panic began to bubble. "Cassie."

He turned on his heel and broke out into a clumsy run, but before he could make any ground at all someone grasped his ankle and yanked it backwards, causing Ray to plummet to the ground with no secure footing to support him. He cried out, scrabbling at the ground for a root or a stone he could hold onto, but it was no use; he was pulled backwards, and then the Nord was straddling his stomach and had his collar gripped tightly into her fist. Ray felt the blood from her nose drip onto his cheek and he gagged, closing his eyes and bracing himself for impact.

The Nord punched him in the nose, once, and then twice, and then three times, and Ray was helpless to do anything about it. His blood tasted sharp and metallic and his blurred vision blackened at the edges. The punching ceased for a moment or two, and he was spared an instant of relief, before, through the crack of his remaining vision, he saw the Nord reach round for her sword and ready the great weapon for her kill. "I'll enjoy counting the coin from your pockets, Elf," she sneered as she raised the sword, and Ray swore he could already feel his life ebbing away. He closed his eyes and waited for it to end, but instead of being met with a split second of agony and then darkness, the air was sliced with the shrill scream of a woman, and every nerve in Ray's body was set alight. His instincts kicked in and with a feral growl he thrust the palms of his hands against the Nord's collarbone, knocking her off him and forcing her onto her back. Her sword fell silently to the grass beside her.

"I'm coming, Cassie!" he yelled, grabbing for the sword while the Nord wheezed on the ground. She spat out the blood from her mouth and wiped her hand across her lips, but before she could sit up Ray kicked her back down and held her in place with a foot on her stomach. When she struggled, he dug his heel in further, causing her to gasp. He wasted no time with silly declarations of triumph, despite his expansive collection of witty, dramatic lines, instead choosing to focus on the safety of his sister and the safety of his sister only; he raised the sword, held it over her throat, and with a mere split second of hesitation, plunged it down. Blood bubbled from her lips and she gargled for a few seconds, before lying still. Ray looked anywhere but her eyes.

"Cassie!" he cried again, steadying himself against a tree before breaking out into a run. He could hear the clatter of metal against metal in the distance, and a strange crackling sound that could only be described as an audible representation of the way the air feels the night before a storm, but the cart and his family felt like miles away. He picked up his pace to a sprint and raced to the scene of action, heart hammering against his chest.

By the time he arrived, the damage had been done, but so had the repairs. The cart had been knocked over and bashed in on one side, the horse lay dead in front of it, and the air was laced with the acrid scent of blood and sweat. There were two bodies, clad in the same armour of Ray's own attacker, but otherwise there was nothing wrong with the image. Cassathra and Mathieu were both alive and looking relatively healthy. Mathieu, however, looked less than happy to see him; he had a steady flow of blood trickling from a gash in his forehead down to the hem of his robes and a scowl dark enough to send the most terrifying of Daedra scuttling.

Ray gulped.

"This," Mathieu spat, breathing slowly and heavily in that way people do when they're trying to calm themselves down, "is _your_ fault." He marched forwards, raising his knee high as he strode over a corpse, and seized Ray's tunic into a balled fist. "If you hadn't been pissing around and playing your _stupid bloody games_ we wouldn't be here. We were almost _killed, _Rayyndin!"

Despite his perpetual grouchy mood, Mathieu rarely lost his temper; if his voice level was rising steadily, they had a problem.

"_My_ fault?! It was _your _idea to change drivers at Riften!" Ray exclaimed, grabbing Mathieu's wrist and pushing him away. "Why did we even have to pass through Riften anyway? Windhelm's like three days away from Blacklight! It makes absolutely _no fetching sense_ and if it weren't for you we'd be on our way back to Morrowind by now!"

Mathieu was livid – his skin had darkened to the same red as his eyes, which were currently burning with a shade of scarlet like blood, and his breath came in long, trembling inhales. "We're not _going _back to Morrowind, Ray!" he cried, practically shaking. For the moments that followed, there was nothing to fill the silence besides his frustrated, laboured breathing. "Have you even _heard _of the Civil War? These were _Stormclaoks._ The border between Morrowind and Skyrim is the most heavily guarded boundary in Tamriel, and if we've got problems with them down here we wouldn't have made it five miles up there."

Stormcloaks. Civil War. Ray suddenly realized which 'Ulfric' the Nord had been referring to. He looked away.

"We're Dunmer, Rayyndin," Mathieu continued, breathing starting to regulate slightly. "We're not exactly the Nords' best friends. And if you could get your head out of your arse for even a _few _minutes, you'd know to leave the planning to me and the not-being-an-idiot to yourself."

Ray thought Mathieu had finished, but it seemed that he was wrong – Mathieu clenched his hands into fists and inhaled deeply, before progressing with a rapidly building voice level. "You know, I can't even _believe _you sometimes, Ray, you're such a fetching IDIOT, and- and I fetching hate-"

"_Stop it!" _Cassie demanded, throwing an arm over Mathieu's chest and dragging him backwards. "Both of you! This- this is so completely _stupid. _We've got _no _supplies, no money, no driver, and no way of knowing where we are. Arguing like this is going to get us absolutely nowhere, and the two of you are doing sod all about it."

Once satisfied that they were a great enough distance from each other, Cassie retracted her hands aggressively from a very shocked Mathieu's shoulders and shoved him even further away from Ray. Mathieu opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off before he could do so – unfortunately, she was speaking purposely quietly and Ray was incapable of hearing a word.

After a moment, the murmuring ceased, and Mathieu nodded. He looked guilty. Cassie cleared her throat.

"From now on," she began, addressing both of them, "Mathieu will be in charge. We will follow this road until we find a settlement, and from there we will get directions and supplies. After that, we aim to get to Whiterun. Am I understood?"

Ray stared at the ground. His mouth felt dry.

"_Am I understood?"_

"Yes," he mumbled, reluctantly meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry Cassie."

"Good," she said, looking pleased with herself. "Now, shake hands."

Turning to Mathieu, Ray held out his hand. Mathieu grit his jaw sideways and stared at it for a long time, but when Cassie cleared her throat loudly he sighed in defeat and grudgingly shook it.

"Okay," she grinned, clapping her hands together. "Now that's all sorted, who volunteers to loot the bodies?"

They groaned.

* * *

><p>"We're lost."<p>

"We are _not _lost."

"You're holding the map upside down."

Mathieu made a loud noise of frustration and screw the thing up, hurling it to the ground.

"Well, _sor-ry _for not knowing a province I've never been to like the back of my hand! Why don't _you_ havea go?"

"Fine," Ray retorted, shooting him a glare as he picked the map back up, unfolding it. "I will."

"Stupid thing's written in Nordic anyway," Mathieu huffed, crossing his arms. "Good luck with it."

Cassie sighed in defeat, sitting on a rock. "I'm doomed," she told herself.

"So like, where on here are we?" Ray asked, holding the map at arms' length and squinting as he tested various angles. "Are we still in the Rift?"

"Ex – fetching – xactly," Mathieu said as he pointed at Ray accusingly and looked to Cassie as if to ask for her support. "Are you hearing this? And he wonders why _I _was lost."

"Well," said Ray, glancing at the sun and trying to work out which direction they were facing. "If we've been heading east, and we've been walking for seven days since... Ivarstead, then we _should _be _roughly _around... Helgen? At a rough guess."

"Give me that," said Mathieu, snatching the map from Ray's grasp and staring at intently. It was a few moments before he spoke again, but when he did, it was with an irritated 'Humph' and a thrusting of the map to Ray's chest. "Whatever."

Ray grinned. "In your face, Mr I-Know-Everything-Under-the-Fetching-Sun-"

"Wait," interrupted Cassie, getting to her feet. Her eyes were far away, as if she were trying to observe something that wasn't there. "Shh."

Ray shut up. He and Mathieu remained in a confused silence, before Ray gave up and asked, "What?"

Cassie blinked. "Can you hear that?"

They strained. Mathieu scratched the back of his neck. "Hear what?"

"I... I swear I heard someone yelling. A woman." She looked sheepish. "It- it was probably nothing."

Ray shrugged. "Oh well," he said, folding up the map and putting it smugly back in the knapsack. "Let's carry on."

"Fetching DRAGONS – piss- pissing STORMCLOAKS, curse all the _bloody _Divines and send them to FETCHING OBLIVION. What in Talos' name was the fetching- OW. OWOWOW, OH MY GODS. FOR AKATOSH'S SAKE, I'M GOING TO FETCHING KILL A MAN. SOMEBODY HELP."

As distant as the sound was, it was unmistakable. Mathieu stared at Cassie, clueless as for what to do. "I _definitely _heard it that time."

"I think it was coming from this way," Cassie said, before bolting off into the woods. Ray and Mathieu had no choice but to follow.

"Hello?" Cassie called in the common tongue, dodging trees with Mathieu close behind like it was easy. Ray, at the back, tripped over roots numerous times. "Is anybody there?"

"I'M DYING," the voice continued, undeniably closer this time. "MARA FORGIVE ME. DO IT. DO IT NOW. I CAN FEEL THE COLD EMBRACE OF DEATH APPROACHING MY VERY SOUL. I DO NOT FEAR THE DARKNESS. EASE ME INTO THE ABYSS."

"Hello!" Cassie repeated. "We're here to help! Where are you? We're coming!"

"Hellooooo!" Mathieu joined in. Ray would've done so as well, but he felt like his dignity was at stake – this was obviously a madwoman they were dealing with. He didn't want to look as ridiculous as they did when it was clear she wasn't responding.

"ALAS! VOICES!" cried the woman. "ARE THESE ANGELS, EMBODIMENTS OF YOUR HOLY EXISTENCE COME TO ESCORT ME TO SOVNGARDE? DAEDRIC EVILS COMING TO TAUNT ME IN MY TIME OF NEED? ARKAY, AKATOSH, TALOS, WHOEVER YOU ARE, DO IT QUICKLY. TAKE ME NOW. I FEAR NOTHING."

That was it. Definitely a madwoman. Ray was tempted to get them out of there as fast as possible while they still could.

"There you are!" cried Cassie, slowing down in her tracks as they began nearing a stream. Ray and Mathieu grinded to a halt behind her, craning over her shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of who she was looking at, although the sight they were met with was particularly unimpressive – Ray was almost disappointed.

Sat beside the stream, with her dirty, bare feet hanging in the water, was a young woman. She looked Imperial, Breton, maybe, because she was quite short and stout and had far too dark a hair to be a Nord, though her skin was pale, (and grubby,) so there was no way she could've been Redguard. Ray hoped sincerely that her hair was actually black and not just stained that way with dirt, because that would've been gross.

She had quite gentle, ordinary features, with a straight nose and classical proportions, and hair that reached just below the shoulders. As it was now, though, it was knotted and wild and caught up with a few twigs. She had a nasty gash on her forehead where drying blood had stained the side of her face, and she was clad in tatty, frayed rags. Her pale, grey eyes stared blankly into the distance, and while her body had tensed up when they approached, it almost appeared as if she hadn't yet noticed them.

Around her wrists were sore, red markings.

"Are you okay?" Cassie asked, moving closer towards the woman so that she could talk to her easier. She flinched, mumbling something under her breath and wringing her fingers together. Ray swallowed.

"Ma'am, are you in any need of assistance?"

Her head snapped in Mathieu's direction, though again, she looked as if she were staring somewhere over his shoulder. From her ramblings earlier, Ray wouldn't be surprised if she were hallucinating. He felt sorry for the poor woman.

Cassie sighed, looking upset at the lack of response. She turned to Mathieu as if to say, "What do we do?" but when the three of them were least expecting it, the woman burst into laughter.

They stared at her.

"'_Ma'am?'_" she echoed incredulously between giggles. "Now _that's_ a fetching first. You're hilarious, d'you know that? What's next, 'Your Highness?!'"

Mathieu cringed, looking completely helpless. "Er- sorry, I, uh..."

"Are you okay?" Cassie repeated, putting her hand on the woman's shoulder. Her laughter faded and she shrugged Cassie's hand away, looking suddenly annoyed.

"Do I _look_ as if I'm okay?"

Silence. None of them knew how to respond.

Then she started laughing again.

"Ah, what do I know. Knowing my luck, I bet I look _fine! _Simply wonderful! Couldn't be better, actually. Thank you for asking." She gave a saccharinely sweet smile. "You can go now."

Ray raised an eyebrow, shooting a warning glance to Mathieu that hopefully conveyed everything that he was thinking; primarily, what in Oblivion, and can we please go now?

Mathieu glared at him.

"Oh!" Cassie exclaimed after a long moment, hands rising up to cover her mouth in shock. "Y- you're blind!"

The woman huffed, positioning her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand in a way that made her look disappointed. Her expression flattened. "And you're almost as observant as I am," she said, draping her other hand across her lap. Ray blinked in surprise – though it made complete sense, he had never met a blind person so young before, and it wasn't as if he was exactly _expecting _it. He shifted guiltily, wringing his hands.

"I'm so sorry," Cassie continued, looking absolutely mortified at herself. "Oh gods, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- I- I hadn't- I didn't – I..."

Her words fizzled to a stop and she sighed, glancing away. The woman was now leaning backwards against the grass, dangling her bare feet in the stream, head hung back. She began to hum something quietly to herself.

"May I ask your name?" Cassie asked eventually, speaking gently. At this point, Ray's legs had grown tired of standing still and he took a seat next to Mathieu on his oh-so-comfortable rock, though the two of them sat in silence. There was nothing to say.

The woman tilted her head to the side, lips held apart in hesitation. Ray noticed how she was fidgeting almost nervously with the grass beneath her hands.

"Jórunn," she said, holding the world in clear, shameless isolation. Though Cassie looked expectant for an elaboration, Jórunn said nothing else, merely continuing to hum absentmindedly. Ray took it upon himself to break the silence.

"You're a _Nord?!" _he exclaimed incredulously, eliciting an angry elbow to the ribs from the Mathieu. He elbowed him back, oblivious to Cassie's glare.

"Of course I'm a Nord," she spat, expression contorting in annoyance. She sat up. "What did you _think _I was? An _Imperial?!"_

"Well, no," Ray said, continuing confidently without a hint of wavering, "I just- well, y'know. You're quite short, aren't you?"

Jórunn made a noise of disgust, getting abruptly to her feet and brushing down her already filthy rags. "And _you're _a bastard," she snarled, flipping her hair over her shoulder and holding her hand out in front of her so that she could reach out for the closest tree. Once she had done so, she set off determinedly into the woods, calculating her steps carefully and making sure she always had one hand on a trunk. It was only now she was in motion that Ray noticed she was limping on one foot.

"Well, sor-ry for not being an expert on the races of men!" he called after her, getting indignantly to his feet despite Mathieu hissing at him to sit down and pulling on the back of his cloak. "We're elves, you know! Fetching _Dark Elves,_ at that. Yeah, that's right, slackwit! Get yourself killed in the forests, what an intelligent, _Nordic _idea. You're just like the rest of your race! If I were you I'd want to take Imperial as a compliment!" He smirked, lip curled. "Just run, n'wah! Run home to your fetching mother. We wouldn't want to help you anyway."

He was cut off when Cassie punched him swiftly in the face.

"For _once_," she spat, voice shaking, "could you _not _be a complete arsehole?"

Her voice was trembling and watery, like she was about to cry. He had never seen so much pure, unadulterated fury in her eyes.

"I hate you _so, so_ much Rayyndin."

Ray, cupping his jaw, stared at her blankly, shocked.

"Why do you have to ruin everything?" she muttered after the silence became too much to bear, refusing to even meet his gaze. Without waiting for an answer, she took off at a steady jog after Jórunn, shaking her head.

Ray turned to look at Mathieu. His expression was a patronising mixture of disappointment and scepticism, and Ray clenched his aching jaw in irritation.

"You really are an idiot, Rayyndin, aren't you?" he told him with a sigh, setting off calmly towards where Cassie was trying to persuade Jórunn to come with them. Ray could hear Jórunn loudly telling Cassie that she would refuse unless they put a muzzle on their milk drinking war dog. His stomach felt tight with a mixture of rage and guilt.

Resigning himself back to the rock, he sat down, fuming, with a strained exclamation of frustration. In hindsight, he must've looked ridiculously immature, kicking his legs back and forth out of anger and pouting like his mother had just taken away his favourite toy, but he was too annoyed at the time to care about it. He huffed again, teeth grit.

After a few minutes, the trio returned, Cassie in front, Jórunn in the middle, and Mathieu tagging along at the back. They said nothing as they formed a circle about Ray's rock, though the gesture made Ray feel as if he was obliged to stand, and he refused to meet Cassie's gaze. He could feel it bore into him like a blunt knife being twisted into skin.

"We've come to an agreement," Cassie announced, her voice holding an authority and detachment that he had never heard from her before. "We will escort Jórunn to Riverwood. She says she has somebody she knows there. From then on, we will head to Whiterun, and from there, Winterhold. Neither party is obligated to share any information with the other, and Rayyndin is to remain in silence whenever in the presence of Jórunn."

She glared at him.

"Or so have his tongue cut out with an embalming tool," she added, eyes narrowing further. Ray cracked his jaw.

"Is everybody satisfied?" she asked once she had finished, eliciting disgruntled, begrudging 'Yes's from everyone in the group. Mathieu was, surprisingly, the only person to sound even remotely enthusiastic about it.

"Excellent," she said, though this time she did not grin. "Ray, hand me the map. We're going to Riverwood."

* * *

><p>Riverwood was a small settlement.<p>

It was also very, very Nordic.

In his head, Ray had imagined himself remaining racially proud, superior, and headstrong, but the stares he received from the village's inhabitants quickly ground the idea into nothing. He felt uncomfortable and on edge, and somewhat guilty, and found himself shifting nervously under their scrutiny. Mathieu and Cassie showed little signs of feeling the same, but he was glad that they were there. Otherwise, he would've been completely and utterly alone.

When they arrived, Cassie drifted slowly to a halt, stood still for many long, long moments, and then sighed.

Everyone was silent.

From behind him, Ray heard an old woman hiss, "First dragons, and now _greyskins. _Skyrim is in ruins!"

Though he was facing away from her, he huffed and stuck his chin the air.

"Right," Cassie said flatly after a while, voice reduced to little more than a monotonous mutter, "Where do we go?"

Jórunn, who was rubbing her eyes, made an 'mmf' noise under her breath and dragged her hand down her face. "I don't know. I said I knew somebody here. Doesn't mean I've been before."

"Well," said Cassie slowly, and Ray could tell she was on the verge of losing her patience with everything, "what does this... _person, _look like?"

Ray groaned internally. Jórunn raised an eyebrow.

"I. Don't. Know."

"Reclamations save me," Mathieu mumbled, when suddenly, from a little way behind them, they heard somebody call out, "Jórunn!" and all of their heads snapped in its direction.

Jórunn sprung into life. "Hadvar!" she cried, and they turned to see a young Nordic man running towards them, eyes fixed on her. Only just making it in between Ray and Mathieu without barrelling into at least one of them, Hadvar grabbed Jorunn's shoulders and stood breathless in between them, eyes flittering as he drank in every detail of the sight of her.

"By Akatosh, girl, you frightened the life out me!" he said, and with the extended sentence his Nordic accent became clear to Ray. "I'm so relieved that you're alive! When I woke up after the Stormcloaks got to us, I thought that you had been kidnapped, or- or eaten by wolves, or worse!"

"Hadvar," Jórunn said, "I'm fine. These people helped me. But how did you get back? I thought that they had killed you."

She shifted uneasily and shrugged his hands off her shoulders, clearly uncomfortable – Hadvar removed them and cleared his throat, muttering an apology.

"Well," he began, scratching his neck, "after news reached Riverwood of the dragon attack, somebody told uncle Alvor that they saw me escape, so he searched the woods for me and found me there unconscious. I'm staying with him and Sigrid while I recover. But Jórunn, you must come inside and tell me everything; you look as if you haven't eaten in weeks."

Jórunn opened her mouth to respond but before she could do so, Ray cut her off – he stared at Hadvar incredulously, face contorting with scepticism as he exclaimed, "A _dragon _attack?! But- the dragons are extinct! Nobody's seen one in centuries."

Hadvar looked at him as if only just noticing he was there, but it was a few moments before he responded – hesitation was evident on his face, and he looked wary. Closing his mouth firmly, he nodded, expression grim. "Well, dark elf, I'm afraid that changed about a week ago. I saw it with my own eyes. Jórunn, well, she- she heard it."

He glanced at Jórunn as if for confirmation. Reluctantly, she nodded. Hadvar turned to Mathieu. "I want to thank you for helping my friend. We owe you much. If you would take it, you are welcome to come inside and clean up. My aunt is a good cook and we have spare supplies."

Mathieu glanced to Cassie – who had been unofficially selected as the leader of the group – to ask for her decision. She took only a few moments, but when she did, it was with a firm, serious nod, and an outstretched hand intended for Hadvar to take. He shook it.

"My name is Cassathra. This is my cousin, Mathieu, and my older brother, Rayyndin." She looked to him warningly out of the corner of her eyes. "We will gladly accept your hospitality."

Hadvar smiled a little. "Good. My uncle is Riverwood's blacksmith – his house is just over there." He twisted slightly to point to where he had come running from earlier. "Alvor is out at the moment, but Sigrid should be able to fix you all a nice hot meal."

Cassie's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you, Hadvar."

"It's the least I can do," he said, smiling at them a final time before turning and heading to the house. "This way."

Exchanging glances, they followed.

* * *

><p>"Did <em>you <em>see the dragon?" Dorthe, who Ray had learned was Hadvar's young cousin, asked him as she kicked her legs back and forth from her position on the edge of a bed. Cassie was sat on the floor next to her, leaning against said bed and entertaining the young girl with spells and magic – Ray watched in bewilderment as he witnessed her ability for the first time. He blinked, shaking his head and turning back to look at Dorthe.

"No," he said, eliciting a sigh of disappointment from her. "Sorry. Although I _did_ see some giant spiders on the way here."

Dorthe rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out. "Pfft. Frostbite spiders?! Cousin Hadvar fights those all the time."

Hadvar, who was sat at a table with Mathieu and Sigrid a little way behind them, swallowed down his mouthful of bread and laughed a little.

"That's not strictly true, Dorthe," he told her gently, causing her to pout; "It was only the one time. Jórunn was there."

The woman in question was downstairs, having a bath. Ray was looking forward to asking her about that later.

"How exactly did you two meet?" Mathieu asked, leaning back in his chair. "I take it you haven't known each other for very long."

"Well," said Hadvar, shifting slightly, "It's a little unusual. About two weeks ago Ulfric Stormcloak was arrested by the Imperial legion and taken to be executed at Helgen, and I was one of the officers stationed there. Jórunn was actually one of the other prisoners meant to have been put to death."

Mathieu almost spit out his drink. Ray, ever brash and brazen, spoke his thoughts for him; "Jórunn's a _Stormcloak_?"

Hadvar shook his head, taking another swig of his ale. "No. She was there for trying to illegally cross the border into Skyrim, from Cyrodiil."

"How did you end up helping each other?" Mathieu said, now leaning forwards in his seat, having recovered.

"That was when the dragon attacked. It was actually Jórunn who was on the chopping block at the time, coincidentally. Er..." he trailed off, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I don't know how she made it that far to begin with or who helped her, and I haven't asked, but... I was helping another man and his family when she sort of... stumbled up behind me. She was blind and injured and defenceless and I didn't think she had deserved to die in the first place, so, well, I helped her. We made it out of Helgen by going through an underground tunnel following the Keep, and travelled for a couple of days, when we got ambushed by a band of Stormcloaks, who, presumably also escaped from Helgen. I must have been knocked unconscious, but when I woke up, Jórunn was gone, and Alvor was stood over me. Then, a week later, you lot showed up."

Mathieu just nodded, and Ray could see that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek – he only did that when he could think of absolutely nothing to say. Thankfully, Sigrid was able to come up with something that kept the conversation from going stale;

"So what brings three Dunmer like yourselves into Skyrim? You don't exactly look like refugees."

Cassie answered her question before Mathieu or Ray could do so, more than happy to contribute to the breaking of the silence.

"We're heading to the College of Winterhold," she explained, fidgeting with her fingers almost nervously. "To learn magic. In Winterhold."

Sigrid smiled at her, but it seemed a little forced to Ray. Her lips were pressed too tightly together for it to be natural. "Wonderful," she said, laying down her spoon on the table. "That'll be quite an adventure for you, won't it?"

"You know," said Hadvar, a stark contrast to the tenseness of his aunt, "if it's magic you want to learn, the Guardian stones aren't far from here. If you believe in that kind of thing."

"Guardian stones?" she asked.

"Three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape," he said. "They're said to grant the users with blessings. The Mage stone is only about twenty miles south-west of here, if you follow the river, but I'm sure it'll be useful to you in your travels."

Cassie looked to Mathieu. He shrugged. Though she didn't explicitly reply to Hadvar's suggestion, the small smile that formed on her lips was enough of a response for everyone to see. Ray tried not to be offended that she didn't look to him for permission.

It was Sigrid who spoke next; "If you're heading to Winterhold, Whiterun would be a good stopping place for you to stay in your travels. It's just a few days north of here, and will take you on the road up to Dawnstar. I don't think Windhelm would be a good place for people of... your kind, to go to right now."

Brushing off her last comment, Mathieu was the one to answer her. "That's okay. We were planning on staying in Whiterun anyway."

"When you do," she continued curtly, absentmindedly stirring her bowl of stew, "the people of Riverwood would appreciate it greatly if you would deliver a message to the Jarl for us."

Mathieu shifted uneasily. "What kind of message?"

"Riverwood calls for aid. Many of the villagers are terrified after the attack at Helgen, but all of us are too busy to be able to make the journey to Whiterun ourselves. We are defenceless, and without a guard force. I think we would all feel a lot safer if the Jarl were to spare us a few of Whiterun's guards to be posted in the area. Could you do that for us?"

It was Mathieu's turn to look to Cassie for permission; it was her turn to shrug. He looked back to Sigrid. "I guess."

"Excellent," she said, looking more relaxed already. "We'll be happy to supply you with anything you need for the journey. In fact, when Alvor gets back, I'm sure he'll able to fix you all up with some nice new armour. Is that alright?"

"Yes," Ray blurted, before he could even think about it. "Yes, gods, that would be great."

"Good. I think I'll go check on your companion, see if she's alright," she said, standing with finality and heading downstairs, leaving the other five of them in silence.

Dorthe blew a raspberry. "Adult conversations are boring. Are you going to kill any dragons?"

"Hopefully not," Ray said, pulling a face of disgust. "I don't think we'll get that far."

"Well, it can't be _that _hard if Hadvar did it."

"Dorthe, I didn't-"

"Oh!" she said as she sprung to her feet, face alight with a grin. "Can I come?"

"Dorthe, I don't think that would be wise-"

"Oh, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, _please _let me come with you!" she begged, tugging on one of Cassie's curls, which made her laugh. "Please, I promise I'll be good! Father will let me, I swear!"

"Sorry, Dorthe," Cassie said, smiling. "I think you'd be more use to your dad if you stay here."

Dorthe despondently sat down again, pouting. "Fine."

"Come on," said Mathieu, as he came and stood next to Ray's chair. "Jórunn's staying here. We should head over to the inn and try and get some rest. I want to be up early tomorrow."

"_That's_ something we'll never hear you say again," Ray said, pulling a face as he did as he was told. Cassie followed.

"Hadvar," Mathieu said as he stopped in the doorway, turning to their host. "Thank you for everything. We'll be round again in the morning."

Hadvar nodded, raising his pint of ale. "My honour. Sleep well, companions."

Mathieu nodded back, and then they left the house.

As grateful as Ray was for the hot food and the warm bed, there was something about the prospect of going to Whiterun for a purpose other than a place to stay that kept him awake in anticipation for more travelling. The journey so far had been boring and tedious, but he had a good feeling about tomorrow. Like something big was going to happen, and that he was going to be a part of it.


End file.
